


Perfect

by Sealie



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-31
Updated: 1999-03-31
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: Yes, I know that these due South fics are coded incorrectly. Yes, I know that there are rampant Briticisms. Yes, I know that the spelling is very flawed in places. Yes, I know that the grammar iswrong.If you read the fic, I don’t need you to tell me these things.I was a very little, new fanfic writing/posting fan when I wrote these stories. I hadn’t learned some of the methods of managing my dyslexia, which I use everyday today with varying degrees of success. I hadn’t learned a lot of things.I tried several times over the years to get the due South archivist to delete them to no avail. When I saw them uploaded to Ao3 – after sitting staring in abject horror at the screen -- I also considered claiming and deleting them myself, but they are part of my history, even though they generally only received nasty comments.I’m leaving them here for the time being. Remember, we were all new and inexperienced at some point.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that these due South fics are coded incorrectly. Yes, I know that there are rampant Briticisms. Yes, I know that the spelling is very flawed in places. Yes, I know that the grammar is _wrong_. 
> 
> If you read the fic, I don’t need you to tell me these things. 
> 
> I was a very little, new fanfic writing/posting fan when I wrote these stories. I hadn’t learned some of the methods of managing my dyslexia, which I use everyday today with varying degrees of success. I hadn’t learned a lot of things.
> 
> I tried several times over the years to get the due South archivist to delete them to no avail. When I saw them uploaded to Ao3 – after sitting staring in abject horror at the screen -- I also considered claiming and deleting them myself, but they are part of my history, even though they generally only received nasty comments.
> 
> I’m leaving them here for the time being. Remember, we were all new and inexperienced at some point.

Perfect 

Standard disclaimer (let's get that out of the road-  
first). Okay, definitely a 'G' and surprise surprise there's a h/c element....  
Any comments are welcome - e-mail:

#  Perfect

by Sealie Scott 

Fraser hovered furtively across from the Vecchio household as he consulted his watch. While he realised that he didn't actually know what Frannie did with her time apart from pursue him, hopefully on Saturday morning, she'd either be shopping or fast asleep. Girding himself, Fraser rapidly crossed the street and raced up the short path to the front door. As he poised to knock the door, it was wrenched open. 

"'bye, Ma, see you later." Ray yelled over his shoulder. "Hi, Fraser." 

Quickly, because Ray's farewell would have woken the dead, Fraser gabbled: "Ray, you left this lap-top in my apartment last night. I thought you might need it..." Fraser's voice petered away, as he noticed that the Ray before him was almost a figment of imagination: Nike-sporty Ray instead of high-fashion Ray. The detective grabbed the computer from Fraser's grip and dumped it just inside the doorway. Fraser stepped back, Ray was obviously in a hurry and when Ray was in a hurry it was best to batten down the hatches and duck. The detective froze on the top step. 

"Hey, Fraze, do you swim?" 

Fraser considered the question. "Swim?" 

"Yeah, in water..." He grinned. "Paddle - paddle, gasp - sink." 

"Yes." Fraser admitted slowly. 

Ray smiled widely, inspiration hitting him over the back of the head. "Hang on, Tony'll have something you can wear." 

* 

Ray's health club was as expensive as his taste in clothes. Fraser trailed behind his friend as they passed through the fitness room. There was nowhere safe too look, ladies with clothes which were far too figure hugging filled the room. Eyes wide, Fraser finally fixed his gaze on Ray's back and dogged his heels like an imprinted duckling. Thankfully, it was a single sex changing room, he had read about the other kind and knew what Grandmother would have said about disrobing in public. Tony's trunks were some two sizes too large, he pulled the drawstring and the shorts billowed like a clown's trousers. Laughing loudly, Ray left the changing room. Feeling completely out of his element, Fraser sidled out to the pool side, Ray had already dove into the pool and was treading water. 

"Come on, dive in." Ray paddled to the edge. "What's the problem?" 

"No problem, Ray." Fraser slipped into the water. "I just don't swim." 

"Really?" Ray said disbelievingly. "You?" 

"Yes. Me. Oh, I can swim, as you know, it just doesn't occur to me to swim for pleasure." Fraser pursed his lips. 

Unable to resist such an aristocratic expression Ray splashed Fraser full in the face and slipped smoothly away before the mountie could retaliate. _Not that I would,_ Fraser thought. He wiped the water from his face as an otter like Ray resurfaced well out of reach. _Swimming is for rescuing people foolish enough to get into difficulties,_ Fraser noted autocratically. In the back of his mind, Diefenbaker barked derisively reminding a certain mountie that he had once fallen into the Prince Rupert's Sound and he hadn't handled that experience very well. Fraser's train of thought was completely obliterated as hands grabbed his ankles and yanked him below the surface of the water. Inhaling and coughing water simultaneously proved impossible and Fraser felt himself being dragged to the surface and pulled to the side. 

"Okay?" Ray asked concerned. 

Snorting chlorinated water, Fraser smiled gamely at his best friend. "I wasn't quite ready for that." 

"Sorry, I thought you were a better swimmer." 

"You don't have much opportunity to swim in the territories. Ice skate on it - yes." 

"Frozen." Ray said wisely. 

Fraser tentatively splashed Ray, who grinned and swam out of reach, drenching the mountie with overly enthusiastic back kick. Deciding that the game had evolved from drowning to chasing Fraser decided to play along. 

* 

"You don't play enough." Ray informed Fraser as the mountie attempted to decant the water from his ears, a product of countless duckings. 

"Sorry?" 

"Play. Not serious. For fun." 

"I do play." Fraser said defensively. 

"Do not." 

"Do." 

"Yeah, when?" Ray countered as he finished drying himself. 

"I played ice hockey last year." Fraser buttoned up his blue plaid shirt very carefully, paying far to much attention, so he could have a valid excuse to ignore his friend. Ray took the hint. 

"I need to stop by work. I gotta pick up a file I need to read before I give my deposition on Monday." 

Fraser acquiesced readily and followed closely behind Ray as that threaded their way through the bevy of underdressed fitness fanatics. 

* 

Fraser sat precisely in Ray's car considering his friend's words. He always analysed Ray's comments - examined them forwards, sideways and backwards, in an attempt to understand them before disregarding them or filing them where they belonged. _Do I know how to have fun?_ He wondered. 

"Do you want to stay in the car while I get the file?" Ray interrupted Fraser's chain of thought. The detective was already outside the car. Startled, Fraser noticed that they had arrived at the precinct. 

No," he could say hello to Elaine and pick up that recipe for carrot cake she said he just had to try. 

Ray sneezed violently into his handkerchief. 

"Bless you," Fraser said politely, " are you getting a cold?" 

"Apparently." Ray blew his nose lustily. 

"Why did you go to the pool?" Fraser asked as they entered the precinct. 

"I thought it was hay fever - usually knocks it on the head." Ray sneezed his way past the desk sergeant. 

"You getting another cold, Ray?" The grizzled veteran yelled. "Ya don't eat enough fresh fruit." 

"He's right." Fraser supplied. "Latest research indicates that if you eat over five pieces of fruit a day you lower you chances of catching diseases. The antioxidant properties of the fruit mop up the free radicals..." 

"It's a cold for God's sake, Fraser." Ray growled, winding his way through the desks to his corner. 

The file was prominently placed on his desk with a pithy comment from the State's Attorney. Ray crumpled the note and tossed it into the waste bin without looking at it. 

"Aren't you going to read it?" 

"No. I know what it says already." Ray scowled. "Let's get out of here before someone makes me work on my day off." 

"Vecchio." Welsh's tone was unmistakable. 

"Next time you could get me to come up." Fraser said helpfully. 

* 

Welsh was almost obscured by mountains of paperwork. He peered over the top of a thick tome at the twosome. He looked more disgruntled than Ray (if that was possible). 

"It's my day off." Ray said without preamble. 

"I know, I know - believe me - I know." Welsh growled. "This deposition from Mr Barry Wu - you made a mistake." The Lieutenant waved the offensive report at the detective. 

"I did not!" Ray said defensively. He plucked it from Welsh's stubby fingers and looked it over. 

"The date." Welsh elaborated. 

"Oh, Geez!" Ray crumpled the form into a little ball and threw it at Fraser. "It's useless." 

Wondering why it seemed to be his fault Fraser smoothed out the paper. "Oh, dear. It appears that you've transposed the numbers of the year. This crime could not have taken place in 1969." 

"I know that, Fraser." Ray snapped. 

"Luckily we caught it. Get yourself down there and get Mr Wu to sigh the form with the correct date." Welsh ordered. 

"Can't I just..." 

"No, you cannot. That's fabricating evidence - be thankful that I spotted it and not the State's Attorney." 

"Oh, I am." Ray said fervently, he turned a shade of green just thinking about it. 

"We need it by four o'clock, she's collecting the evidence at five." 

Galvanised, Ray grabbed Fraser and without giving him time to ask for permission dragged him from the office. 

"Try to do something right this time, Vecchio," was Welsh's parting shot. 

* 

"I don't get this." Ray rifled through his files. "I checked all these through and they were fine." 

"It's a common mistake, Ray." Fraser backed away from the bowels of the files - Ray would just yell at him if he tried to help - and let the detective get on with his search. 

"Eureka!" Ray pulled out a very creased carbon and angled it towards the light. "Oh, dear." 

Fraser settled himself down at Ray's typewriter and began to retype Barry Wu's account of the hold-up at his neighbour's store, with the correct dates. 

"Who taught you how to type?" 

"My grandmother." 

"Did she ever teach you how to play?" 

"It wasn't on her agenda." Fraser said slowly. "Oh, she was fond of board games and cards but running, chasing, getting dirty - she didn't really approve of. She was very fond of ice hockey." 

"Name me a Canadian who isn't." 

Fraser cocked his head to one side, he couldn't think of any offhand. 

* 

The manager of the Sung Ye Apothecary was a young bright eyed man who obviously enjoyed his work. He also knew Ray Vecchio by sight. 

"Hi, detective," he said smiling. 

Fraser left his friend to it and wandered around the stacks sniffing and fingering the merchandise. There was a wealth of smells and textures which he had never experienced before. He carefully noted each new aroma and catalogued the information. Smiling slightly, he realised that he had found a whole new world to explore. 

"Benny, leave it alone." Ray chastised, without turning around to look at the mountie, as Fraser picked up a gnarled root. 

"What is it? It looks like ginger but it feels smoother." 

Mr Wu squinted myopically at Fraser's hand. "No idea. You'll have to come back and ask my father or mother on Monday; they're doing the books this weekend. I wouldn't taste it, though, could be anything." 

Fraser froze and then placed the root back on the stand. 

"How come you never listen to me?" Ray punctuated his sentence by coughing. 

"Nasty cough there, detective." Barry looked up from his perusal of the statement, he passed a bottle of water over the counter. 

"Sorry. I think there's somemat in here which is disagreeing wit' me," Ray wiped at tearing eyes, "'am gonna wait outside. Frase?" 

"I'll get the form, Ray." Fraser said accurately interpreting Ray's meaning despite the coughing and wheezing. He hovered between leaving the form and chasing after Ray as the detective staggered out the door gasping for breath. 

"Sound serious. I know this is okay." Barry signed the form with a sloppy, easily forged signature. "Tell Ray I'll be there Monday morning." 

"Thank you kindly." Fraser stuffed the statement in his back pocket and chased after Ray. 

* 

The detective was leaning on the car with his hands braced against the roof. He was breathing deeply, clearly struggling for control, head dropped down between his shoulder blades. 

"Ray?" Fraser questioned tentatively, he could hear the breath whistling in his friend's lungs. 

Suddenly, Ray looked up and scanned the shops around him. Without a word he pushed himself off the car and oblivious to the traffic staggered across the street. Fraser leaped in front of Ray, warding off a truck, as Ray pursued his goal. The abuse from the driver was ear burning. Fraser apologised profusely and almost missed Ray heading with single minded intensity into a bar-restaurant. 

"Ray?" Fraser called out as he entered the airy restaurant. 

There were only a few patrons, indulging in an early brunch, who looked up at the worried man searching the area. Fraser spotted Ray clinging to the bar attempting to gasp out an order. The young waitress leaned close to Ray, obviously asking a question and then dumped a large brandy in front of the loudly wheezing detective without waiting for any money. Fraser reached Ray who had his long nose as far as possible into the large glass and was inhaling deeply. 

"Ray? What's happening?" 

"Warm, strong black coffee, five sugars," interrupted the waitress with brusque efficiency, "with another shot of fine napoleon." 

Ray set his glass of aside and gulped down several mouthfuls of the, to Fraser, vile sounding brew. Ray struggled to contain another cough as he alternatively inhaled and drank from the large cup. Fraser's attention switched between the waitress who was watching Ray with undisguised concern and Ray who was concentrating solely on getting his breathing under control. 

"Miss?" Fraser asked plaintively. 

"Melissa. Your friend's having an asthma attack." She pushed another mug of black coffee towards Ray. 

"Asthma? He doesn't have asthma." 

"Yes, he does. And it's not his first one." 

"How do you know that?" Fraser asked as he regarded his friend in a new light. 

"He wouldn't know about the wonders of black coffee." 

Ray had a sufficient energy to growl between mouthfuls. 

"Mel?" A new voice interrupted them. Fraser spun around to face another young woman. In the booth behind her several faces watched with avid interest. 

"Yeah, Anne?" 

The young office worker rummaged around in a large brown purse and pulled out a blue tube which she proceeded to shake vigorously. Fraser recognised it as an inhaler and was surprised when she discharged it into the air around them. 

"Haven't used it in a while." She said by way of explanation. 

"Surely that is prescribed medication." Fraser objected, as she placed it in Ray's hand and curled his fingers around the inhaler. 

"Coffee doesn't seem to be working." She said neutrally and turned her attention to the labouring detective. "Have you used one of these before?" 

"Not going too." Ray gasped out and pushed her hand away. 

Fraser stopped himself taking the Lord's name in vain as Ray's head came up. The detective's lips were an unsightly blue colour and the pulse in his neck was visibly beating. 

"Call the paramedics." Fraser ordered the waitress. 

"On my way." Melissa said her eyes wide. 

"No." Ray said desperately, caught between the proverbial rock and the hard place. 

Ann shook the inhaler and held it directly infront of the detective's eyes. "I _am_ going to place this in your mouth and on the count of three I am going to depress the aerosol canister and you are then going to inhale slowly and calmly. You will hold your breath as long as you can - this is not a competition." 

Fraser watched with something like awe as the deceptively mild looking office worker carried out her threat. Her attitude allowed Ray no room to manoeuvre. The entire restaurant watched in silence as she administered the ventolin, waited an desperately long minute and then repeated the procedure. Ray's eyes bugged as he held his breath for as long as he could then he allowed a gasp to escape. He sagged against the counter. 

"Ray?" Fraser asked concerned. 

"Oh boy, that's good stuff," he scrabbled for another gulp of coffee. The wheeze in his chest was still audible but his breathing was visibly easier. 

"Shall I call the paramedics?" Melissa asked poised by the phone. 

"No," Fraser decided slowly, that would overly excite his excitable friend and possibly trigger another attack. Ray suddenly shot an incredibly dirty look at him - Fraser wondered confusedly what offence he had committed. 

Melissa placed another cup of coffee before Ray who had the energy to smile back. Fraser eyed the viscous brown sludge and controlled a shudder. Melissa caught his expression. 

"He's had three big shots of brandy," she mouthed at Fraser. 

"Are you feeling better?" Fraser asked quietly. 

"Much." There was a feverish little gleam in Ray's greenish hazel eyes. Fraser could hear the wheeze of air forcing its way through narrowed airways. 

"And again." Ann ordered, but this time she gave the inhaler to the detective. 

Ray glanced sideways at Fraser, the mountie cultivated his expression to say: if you don't do it, I'll force you to do it for your own good. Ann stood on the other side with a similar expression. Ray sighed dramatically triggering another coughing fit. Once he had it under control he took another gasp of pure aerosol relief. Ray finished the coffee in one final gulp. 

"Thank you, ladies." He said evidently much improved. 

"De nada," said Ann, "but I recommend you go to the doc's." 

Ray's eyes shuttered. Fraser knew his friend well enough to know that he had no intention of following the advice. 

_Without some assistance._

"Ann knows what she's talking about," Melissa put in, "she got a PhD in Ecology." 

Fraser peered closely at the woman, he had thought that she was an office worker. 

"I've been to a meeting." Ann said patronisingly, accurately reading his expression. "I don't spend all my time in jeans and T-shirt." 

"Of course not. I just saw your colleagues and assumed you were on an early lunch." 

"It's a photo moment - you don't get to see these lot looking smart very often," Ann smiled widely. "Look, I better go over and tell them the gruesome details." 

Ray's head shot up, his expression studiously neutral, without a word he passed the inhaler back to the young woman. 

"You keep it; you might need it before you get to the doctors. Don't take too much though - a couple a more puffs - that's all." 

"Thank you." Fraser began. 

"Hey, no problem, Mister Lumberjack." 

"I'm a mountie." Fraser said to her retreating back. 

"Gee, and who says there was no such things as stereotypes." 

Confused, Fraser turned his attention to Ray who just shrugged obviously exhausted by his experience. 

"How much do we owe you?" Fraser asked Melissa, who promptly reeled off an amount. For once Fraser paid. 

"Thank you." Ray said quietly to the bartender. 

"I was glad to be of assistance." 

Fraser watched the two exchange a message without words and knew that the subtext eluded him. Their dialogue apparently concluded, Ray pushed himself to his feet. Hovering closely Fraser shepherded Ray to the Riv. 

"You're breathing my air, Fraser." Ray said tightly. 

Fraser backed off at the tone. 

"You'll have to give me the keys, Ray." 

"Like Hell I will." 

"Ray, you've had three large quantities of brandy in less than half an hour you cannot drive." Fraser explained calmly, it seemed to enflame the mercurial detective. He lobbed the keys directly at Fraser's chest. 

"You better have figured out stick shifts." 

Fraser mentally worked his way through the gear changes secure in the knowledge that if he stripped the Riv's gear box, Ray would have him hung drawn and quartered. 

* 

"Where are we going?" Ray demanded as Fraser pulled out carefully into the traffic following the required mirror, signal, manoeuvre - rather than scream out and expect everyone to get out the way. 

"Your doctor's." Fraser said neutrally. 

"Doctor Nybakken's? Turn around, Fraser. This is my day off. I'm not spending it at the doc's." 

"I'm afraid I must insist. Asthma is a serious condition, thousands of people die of it every year." 

"Stop my car, Fraser." 

"No." 

Ray pulled Fraser's trick of opening the door while the car was moving. The mountie hit the brakes in an emergency stop - much to the disgust of the drivers behind them. Ray picked himself up of the floor. 

"You really should wear your seat-belt." Fraser said unwisely. 

Ray dragged himself into the passenger seat. Fraser waited patiently, ignoring the blare of horns, until Ray buckled himself violently in. Dramatically, Ray slumped down in the seat and crossed his arms. He couldn't remain in his sullen slouch; he couldn't breathe. Fraser glanced sideways as Ray hauled himself into an upright position. 

"What?" Ray snapped. 

"Are you comfortable?" Fraser asked. 

"Yes. You can take me wherever you want me to go." Ray's attitude was extremely snarky. 

The wheeze was back. 

* 

The Medical centre parking lot was unoccupied. Fraser hoped that there would be staff present on a Saturday. The car drew carefully into a bay. Fraser maintained his guard duty expression his ears pricked forwards listening to the cadence of the wheeze. It was not as harsh as before but just hearing it made his own chest hurt. 

"We're here, Ray." Fraser ventured. 

"So we are." Ray crossed his arms. 

"Aren't you going to get out of the car?" Fraser asked curiously. 

"No." Ray pursed his lips and looked out of the window. 

Fraser pulled the keys out of the ignition fully prepared to play the waiting game. And he knew that he would win. However it seemed like a waste of time and Ray was perilously easy to manipulate. 

"Would you like me to carry you in?" Fraser asked sincerely. 

"You wouldn't dare!" 

"Well, given that your wheezing had increased in volume in the last ten minutes and twenty seconds it has taken to get here - I estimate in another seven minutes I should be able to do it quite easily." Fraser's neutral expression was perfect. "Would you prefer a fireman's lift or if I held you in my arms under your knees and shoulders? Oh, the arms, I think, as the fireman's lift would restrict your diaphragm." 

The passenger door actually slammed shut behind Ray. Controlling a smile Fraser followed his friend into the clinic. 

* 

"Hello, Constable Fraser. Is your back giving you trouble again?" The pert nurse leaned over the counter her manner at odds with the seriousness of her words. 

"No, Julie." Fraser said. "My back's fine today." 

"You..." Ray spun on his heel as if jabbed by a sharp needle. "You..." He didn't have enough air to fuel the expletive. 

Fraser placed his hand in the small of Ray's back and steered him over to the nurse. "I believe you know Ray. I'm afraid he's having an asthma attack and it's quite a bad one." 

"Yes..." The young nurse was already speaking tersely into the intercom. Doctor Nybakken's surgery door opened and the avuncular figure rapidly assessed the situation. There was a flurry of activity and Ray was pulled from Fraser's side and settled into a comfortable chair in Doctor Nybakken's office. The detective protested weakly as a respirator was placed over his nose and mouth. 

"It's okay, Ray," Julie said smoothly, "just breathe slowly and calmly. That strange smell is the medicine; it's a vaso-dilator in aerosol form. It will relax the muscles in your airways allowing you to breathe more easily." Ray attempted to speak. 

"No, Ray. Just keep breathing." She placed a comforting hand on his knee. "It's already working." 

The mountie watched, concerned, as Dr Nybakken listened carefully to his friend's chest. But Nybakken seemed pleased with the response, especially when Ray began to shake. 

"That's the medicine." He explained patting Ray's shoulder. Eventually the respirator was removed. 

"Oh, this is fun." Ray said sarcastically as he shook violently. 

"Ask yourself, Raymond, would you prefer to shake or suffocate?" 

"Suffocate." Ray drawled. 

"Of course." Dr Nybakken's tone was infinitely drier. "Pull your T-shirt up again I want to listen to your chest." 

Ray complied - glaring at everyone in the room. 

_And he thinks I make a bad patient,_ Fraser thought incredulously. 

Dr Nybakken listened for a long time - asking the detective to: cough on demand; hold his breath... 

Fraser waited for the explosion. 

"Okay, Raymond." Dr Nybakken said finally allowing his patient to pull down his shirt. 

Ray glared balefully at his family doctor and then retreated to the far side of the room before viciously tucking his shirt into his baggy trousers. 

"I'm going to put you on an anti-inflammatory steroid to reduce the inflammation in your lungs and prescribe an inhaler to relieve the attacks." Dr Nybakken continued oblivious or immune to the detective's manner. 

Ray's expression was mask like. "It's a chest infection." He said. 

"Yes, but it is also asthma. What triggered the attack?" 

"We were in a Chinese Apothecary," Fraser supplied helpfully, "it could have been any number of substances or combination of substances." 

"It's a chest infection." Ray snapped again. 

"Yes, Ray." Dr Nybakken said paternally, "you usually get asthma when you have a chest infection. I'll prescribe you some antibiotics." 

Annoyed and definitely not happy, Ray subsided chewing angrily on his bottom lip. 

* 

The atmosphere in the car was taut. Ray drummed his fingers against the armrest wrapped up in his thoughts. Sitting unattended on his lap was a bag of medical paraphernalia and medication. Fraser fingered the ignition nervously as he wondered whether or not he should pull away. Driving the Riv would probably make Ray yell at him but Ray couldn't drive - he was still twitching from the medicine. 

_Why is Ray so upset?_ Fraser knew that Ray was going to explode as soon as he was asked that question but the mountie couldn't help himself. 

"What's the problem, Ray?" Fraser asked quietly. 

"You are" he snarled. 

_Oh dear,_ Fraser thought dejectedly, _what have I done now?_

"I had to take you to the doctor's - it was serious." Fraser said tentatively. 

"Yes, I know you had too. I'm not stupid." 

"So why are you angry with me?" 

Ray spun in the passenger seat and glared at the mountie. The bag on his lap was flung to the floor, scattering pamphlets, inhalers, tablets... 

"Don't touch that." Ray said tightly, as Fraser automatically reached forwards. Holding up his hands in clear view Fraser backed as far a way as possible in the close confines of the Riv. 

"You're perfect - you wouldn't understand." 

"I'm sorry?" Fraser's expression betrayed his confusion. The plaintive apology was dry tinder to an already raging fire. 

"You're perfect." Ray reiterated. "You're superhuman. You're unreal. I saw your face when that waitress said what was happening. 'Oh dear'," he mimicked, "'got to keep Ray calm or he'll have an asthma attack'. I don't have asthma because I'm excitable. I have asthma because I'm allergic to shit!" 

"But..." 

"Don't interrupt me... I saw it in your face! You think it girly - that what Pop said: 'be a man it's all in your mind'." 

"I..." Fraser began, he could almost see the black cloud hovering behind Ray's head. A miasma of self-hatred and doubt. "I'm not perfect." Fraser said quietly. 

"Ask anyone." Ray gestured dramatically. "Elaine, Louise, even the Dragon Lady - she's irritated with you 'cos you do everything perfectly. Perfectly polite, perfectly groomed, perfectly healthy." Ray finished venomously. 

"I'm not perfect." Fraser said in a hollow whisper, "would I have inflicted Victoria on you if I was perfect?" 

The quietly spoken words were missed or rather overwritten by Ray's loud tirade. The detective was in his element as he punched violently at the dash board and then cursed at the painful distraction. Relieved by the lessening of the attack, Fraser released his death grip on the steering wheel. 

"Why are you so annoyed, Ray?" Fraser tried cautiously. 

Ray stopped swearing and ground his teeth together. Fraser snuck a chary glance at the detective. It was like handling sweating dynamite: one false move; an interpreted wrong tone and an explosion of abuse would result. He had no experience of traversing the veritable mind-field of emotions that Ray, especially, was subjected too. Yet, he had to try. Mentally, Fraser ran through several approaches which he immediately discarded. 

"I can't throw pots." He said suddenly. 

"What?" Ray demanded his eyes bugging. 

"I've never been able to use a potter's wheel." Fraser elaborated. "My vases are always wonky." He smiled obliquely. "Off centre." 

Ray's face twitched slightly. _Maybe a smile,_ Fraser hoped. 

"Is that the best you can come up with?" There was definitely a smile in that voice. 

"Yes." Fraser admitted. 

"Why am I friend's with you?" Ray asked. 

_I think I was thinking the same thing,_ Fraser realised. But he knew that question was rhetorical. He hoped it was rhetorical. 

"My pop called me a wimp when my chest was bad," Ray began. "I had to crawl up the stairs on my hands and knees then collapse at the top until I got my breath back. He stepped over me once and said: 'just take deep breaths'. I wish - stupid old fart. How am I supposed to take deep even breaths when I feel like I'm wearing a skin tight metal overcoat?" Ray demanded. 

Fraser made a commiserating noise. Once previously, Ray had let a truth escape, and he, the supposedly perfect understanding mountie, had let his friend leave the car to go to the gas station. A convenient excuse. Ray had ran and he hadn't followed, hadn't helped, when Ray had as much as said that his father had abused him as a child. 

"They'll take my badge way." Ray said despondently, he picked up one of the inhalers from the floor. Twisting it in his long fingers he spoke softly. "How can I do my job if I have to suck on this?" 

Fraser considered his words carefully. "If your asthma is very bad and affects your work you will have to reconsider your position. But, Ray, I've known you two years and this is the first time that you've had any problems." He couldn't help the interrogative tone in his voice. 

"Sometimes I get a little wheezy but if I drink enough coffee and stay away from milk I can cope." Ray admitted slowly. 

Fraser withheld a sigh of relief. "So it is bad because of your chest infection?" 

"Yeah, I'll be okay once it's cleared up." Ray gazed abstractedly out of the window watching a black bird pecking at something gross on the sidewalk. 

"Well," Fraser finally gave in and picked up one of the bottles of medication scattered on the floor of the Riv. "Doctor Nybakken said that these would reduce the inflammation in your lungs - therefore these will stop any attacks until the antibiotics kick in. _If_ you take these anti-inflammatory steroids." Fraser emphasised rattling the bottle. Ray plucked the tablets from his friend's hand. "Look at all this stuff," he touched an inhaler with his foot, "it's a joke - I'm going to need a extra holster." 

"Just don't point it at anyone." Fraser joked feebly. 

Ray snorted and lapsed back into deep thought. 

Fraser kept very still as he wished he could read his friend's mind. He still wasn't too sure what Ray was so angry about, he admitted to himself. Being ill seemed to be only one many things which were irritating the detective. His grandmother had dosed him with malt extract everyday to keep away colds. Fraser debated with himself whether to pass that old fashioned recipe onto an Italian Mama's boy. However eating black sludge probably wouldn't do anything about the intense feelings Ray alternatively bottled up and then spewed over everybody. 

"I'm sorry, Benny." Ray said surprising his friend. 

"Why?" Fraser asked incredulously. 

"For being nasty to you." He sounded like a toddler. "I guess I gave it to you in the teeth. You just reminded me of how my dad was - he didn't have a clue. Oh, that didn't come out very well." Ray berated himself. Fraser put on his most understanding expression despite the fact that he didn't have a 'clue' what Ray was taking about. 

"People hear the word Asthma and deep down think it's all in your head. It's not - I wish it was - I'd get it hypnotised out of me. The first one (asthma attack) is a nightmare, the second - horrid - and four hundred and fifty sixth - tedious. I'm sick of it, my Ma's sick of it, Frannie's sick of it. Pop is probably down in Hell saying 'freakin wimp of a kid'. Today took me by surprise, it's been a long time since it was that bad, I could see my career going down the john." 

"Actually, I could see your life ebbing away." Fraser said slowly. It hadn't been a very pleasant experience knowing that he couldn't do anything to help his friend. Not knowing what to do. He would be visiting the local library as soon as possible to read up on the subject. 

"Ah, it wasn't that bad." Ray slumped into the bucket seat. "I was upright. I made it to the bar. Once I just lay on the floor and waited to die." 

"What happened?" Fraser was rather surprised when the plaintive question slipped out of his mouth. 

"What can't be cured must be endured. I rode it out. I lay there for, I don't know, the whole night, 'til Ma found me in the morning and put me back in bed." 

"You were little?" 

"Yeah, 'bout nine." 

"So what sets it off?" Fraser asked, _the more information the better,_ he thought. 

"Smoke, cats... Fraser, I really don't want to talk about this. Nothing's gonna happen. Especially - the way I'm doped up." The detective started to return the items Dr Nybakken had inflicted upon him into their bag. Fraser dropped the one of the inhalers he'd retrieved from the floor into the bag. "I would like to know how to handle it, if it happens again." He said simply. 

"It's not gonna happen again." 

"Ah." 

Ray growled deep in his throat. "Look, Benny, I could be shot dead tomorrow. Or I could run into a burning building. I'm not going to loose any sleep over it and neither should you." 

"Understood, Ray." 

Ray blew out a satisfyingly loud sigh. "Just do what you always do, Benny, then it will be fine." 

Fraser took that as a compliment. 

"Black coffee and brandy?" The mountie smiled. 

"That'll do. Come on, drive me to the precinct and we'll drop off that statement and go and get something to eat." 

Fraser turned the key in the ignition and breathed a very small sigh of relief when he didn't flood the engine. Twisting in the seat he refastened his seatbelt. As he moved he realised something very disturbing. 

"Er..., actually, Ray, we've got a problem. I've done something." Fraser said very slowly. 

"What?" Ray demanded. 

Fraser reached behind and patted his back pocket then scrabbled down the back of the driver's seat. 

"I've lost Barry Wu's statement." 

_"Bennnny!"_

* 

_Fin_

  


* * *


End file.
